The Legion of the Undead
by aspentree11
Summary: "You get a second chance." "No." "We need you, Luke." "No." He would not be the Leader of the Undead. He would not come and be the New Percy Jackson. And he would certainly not allow Jason Grace to grant him a second chance at life.


"You get a second chance." "No." "We need you, Luke." " _No_." He would not be the Leader of the Undead. He would not come and be the New Percy Jackson. And he would certainly not allow Jason Grace to grant him a second chance at life.

He was still in his body, and yet he hadn't had this body in years. Forget the time jump - forget that he had been in limbo for over ten years, and had almost spent eternity between the mortal world and the Underworld. He hadn't been in this body since before Percy Jackson learned he was a demigod - Kronos had tarnished his body at sixteen years old, he had violated it in every way possible. But when Luke Castellan rose up from the black pebbles, his body was perfect. Clean, with no scars. Not even the one that stretched across his face.

"You've been in limbo for over ten years." He looked up. Above him, a dark-eyed, pale figure was leaning over him. His face probably reflected Luke's - pure questionable doubt.

"Nico di Angelo." The name came out in one breath. Despite the fact that Nico di Angelo was nearly a foot and a half taller, with a fuller body and a hardened face, Luke knew those eyes. He knew those dark, twisted eyes. The last time he had seen them, they were filled with chaotic pain and anger, but now they seemed...older. Tamed. But Nico di Angelo surely did not seem satisfied as he looked down at him.

"Without the scars, he kind of looks like you," Nico muttered dryly, though it didn't sound like much of a compliment. Nico had been leaning against a dirty shovel tiredly, his face tight with exhaustion. Luke's eyebrows furrowed down, words already forming on his lips, but then a new man entered his vision.

Whoever the boy was, he certainly looked like a distant relative. Like him, he had golden blonde hair. His eyes were a bright, ocean blue. Though they were around the same height, the figure had a substantial amount of muscle that Luke had never been able to pact on, and he had a small scar on his top lip. Despite the good looks, though, something sadder hid behind his eyes. As if he was searching for something, and had been searching for something for a good long time, and he wondered if he was now looking at it.

"Luke Castellan?" The figure asked. His mouth was too dry to speak.

"He's been in limbo for ten years," Nico said. "Not in the mortal world, but also not in the Underworld. He's probably disoriented." It would make sense, Luke thought. He felt like he had just gotten long, deep nap. His body ached and he was a little bit dizzy.

"Ten years?" Luke croaked, though his voice was quiet. "I had been in limbo for...ten years...?" Apart of him was angry that nobody in the Underworld cared enough to wake him up, but he didn't blame them. He was damaged goods - he didn't even deserve to be in the Underworld.

"My name is Jason Grace," the opposing figure said, a small smile on his lips. The smile nearly canceled out the sadness in his eyes. "I work under Plut- _Hades_. Do you know where you are?" Luke leaned up. He grunted as the pebbles he had been sleeping on rolled off his back.

"Dead," Luke said. He sounded like he was five years old. "I'm dead, right?" Jason nodded.

"It took us nearly three weeks to trace down your body," Jason said, eyeing the wasteland around them. "And three days to dig it up." There were dug up holes all around him, with sleeping bodies lying next to the holes.

"I've been dead for ten years. I've been dead for ten years. What about my trial?" Luke said, his head swinging towards Nico. Nico snorted. " _What_? Are they saying I am not entitled to a trial?" Nico's face tightened.

"Don't worry about the trial," Nico said. "My sister represented you because you still hadn't woken up. She convinced them that you deserved to be spared, as you were a hero in the end." He didn't sound like he agreed. But Jason's soft, friendly smile stopped the anger from rising inside of him.

"This is…being spared?" Luke said, nodding towards the lingering bodies. "Being in endless sleep? My body being tossed in a wasteland in the outskirts of the Underworld until someone woke me up?" Nico's eyebrows rose, but he didn't seem indulged to speak.

"We've been a bit busy since then," the blonde figure interrupted. "You weren't exactly a priority."

"Jason Grace, you say?" Luke repeated, his eyes narrowing. "So why the hell did you both decide to wake me up, then?" Trust was hard. Even now, when he had reached redemption, trust was hard. Nico suddenly looked far more interested in his fingernails as Jason took a step towards him.

"I died, too. A year ago, though, Hades found me in Elysium and recruited me to help his son fight monsters in the Underworld. After all, this place has mischief going on, just like the mortal world does. A _lot_ of mischief." Luke blinked at him as Jason and Nico exchanged looks.

"Things have changed. The ancient rules, now that the ancients see how much they need heroes, are allowing us to step up and be exceptions. They're allowing us to have a second chance. They want to come back from the dead, and that includes you."

~*~ discidum ~*~  
"Percy Jackson is getting his marine biology degree, Annabeth is already a famous architecture and is trying to build a third camp for both Romans and Greeks, but most of your friends are working for us." Luke took a sip of his water. _Romans and Greeks_. _Gaia_. _Leo, Piper, Hazel, and Frank_. New names, new places, new events. And yet…

"Friends?" Luke repeated. He didn't have friends.

"Ethan Nakamura, Silena Beauregard, Becken-"

"Those aren't my friends," Luke snapped as he slammed his glass of water against table. "I don't have friends." Hades had granted Nico his own place in the Underworld, and Luke had to admit – it was nice. It wasn't the large castle that his father lived in, more like a very nice tow-house. With old, beautiful furniture, coffee tables made out of black obsidian, and miniature chandeliers. His was facing a large, dark fireplace that cackled loudly between Jason's words. But Jason stiffened when Luke's voice rang loudly, as if he couldn't comprehend why Luke wouldn't call them his friends.

"They helped us locate your body. They were the people who told me about you and wanted me to wake you up," Jason said, his voice hard. "They joined my cause and they help me fight dark forces in the Underworld." Though Jason was still calm, it was obvious that Luke had hit a nerve. Clearly, they were his friends.

"They were offered Elysium and they turned it down because Hades offered them positions to help fight the dark forces in the Underworld," Jason went on. "You should be honored for them to call you their friend." He didn't get it. He didn't understand. It wasn't that he was embarrassed of them – it was that he didn't deserve them. He was horrible to them.

"Okay, congratulations, Jason Grace. You're a leader of the Underworld. You and _my friends_ are now the first ass-kicking heroes to ever create a legion in the Underworld," Luke said dryly. "What, do you want me to join, is that it? Is that why you woke me up?" While Jason's frown collapsed and something unreadable filled his face, Nico snorted. He hadn't spoken since they walked into the townhouse.

"I told you he was a waste of time," Nico said under his breath. "We could be using our resources elsewhere. We could be offering this deal to Harriet Tubman or Mary Queen of Scots-"

"They're willing to revive us," Jason said to Luke. "If we distance ourselves from our past lives, at least. They are willing to revive us as we are, in these bodies, as long as we don't interfere with our old friends' fates. Things have changed since I, and you, have died, and they have run out of heroes who can fight. They need us." Luke wasn't sure if he was breathing.

"That's against ancient laws," Luke heard himself say. "There is no way that the gods will allow that. It's a trick." Jason's face appeared hesitant too.

"We are an exception," Jason said. "They're only allowing this once – we'll be the first and last group of dead beings who will be granted access to the mortal world." Luke snorted as he leaned back in his chair. His palms were sweating.

"A legion of the Undead. How fitting," he chortled. His eyes landed on Nico, who was leaning against the wall quietly. "You think this is a good idea, son of the Hades? To let the dead have a second chance at the mortal world?" Nico's lips pursed. He was quiet for a moment.

"No," Nico said coolly. "It's against human nature. But the gods are giving us this opportunity, and I dug you up so that you would take it." Luke held his gaze. They were more alike than he had realized – both cutthroat, both angry. But Nico had chosen a different path, a path that Luke should have taken.

"What am I supposed to do?" Luke demanded. "Fight the mortal world's problems even though I almost ruined it?" Jason hesitated.

"Half of the Underworld's issues are due to the mortal world not having enough heroes to fight," Jason said. Luke rolled his eyes.

"You're a good enough leader. Surely, you can do this without me, of all people," Luke said. Jason swallowed. Luke noticed how Jason and Nico exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"No, I can't. Because I'm not leading them." Luke's eyebrows rose up.

"You, a leader of the Romans, aren't going to lead them?" Luke repeated. Jason didn't even blink.

"My time as a leader is done now," Jason said. "I will fight, but I cannot lead this time." Luke sighed.

"So who's leading them, then? Does your leader even know that you dug me up?" Luke demanded. "I will not-" Jason's warm smile lit up his face again, stopping Luke from finishing his sentence. Nico, on the other hand, had dread washing over his face as he took in a tired breath.

" _What?_ " Luke demanded.

"Well, we were hoping you'd be the leader." Luke's face recoiled at the words.

"No," he let out.

"Luke, you were always supposed to be a leader. If you had picked the right side in the first place, you would've been just as famous as Per-"

"I am not a leader. Go find someone else." Jason blinked. Clearly, he hadn't done his research because Jason was surprised by Luke's dismissal.

"But you get a second chance."

"No."

"We need you, Luke."

" _No_." He would not be the Leader of the Undead. He would not come and be the New Percy Jackson. And he would certainly not allow Jason Grace to grant him a second chance at life.

"Luke, you owe me," Nico hissed suddenly. "After all of the crap you did to us, you're now turning down your opportunity for redemption-"

"Nico," Jason whispered quietly, but Nico continued.

"I was a child. I was a child and you used me. And I don't care if Kronos took over your body – I am asking for a favor, asking for you to own up to your mistakes just like I had to, and you won't take it? You won't even _try_?" Luke was quiet.

"Then go fuck yourself," Nico said, marching towards the door with Jason following him hurriedly.

"Nico, give him a-"

"Keep the townhouse, Luke. I have no intention on coming back anyways," Nico spat. And with Jason scurrying after him, the front door closed with a slam.

~*~ discidium ~*~

He wasn't a hero. When Jason and Nico woke him up, they hadn't considered the fact that Luke still hadn't been able to digest that he had died. His sacrifice, his reaped soul. That Percy had not only survived, but he helped win the next war too, and made sure that the gods paid for their mistakes, even if it was peacefully. Percy, in his own way, was what Luke wanted to be, in the end – someone who made a half-blood's life better. Justice against the gods.

And now, they had all moved on. Percy Jackson was in college. Annabeth Chase was changing the world. They had new friends, new lives that they didn't know was possible. Thalia had a brother, and her brother was taken from her once again. And here he was, like déjà vu – with Nico di Angelo, a little boy who Luke barely even remembered, and the son of a god from a different world.

Luke, to say the least, was not taking it well.

He didn't even get to attend his own trial. And more so, he didn't deserve _this_. He didn't deserve a fancy, beautiful townhome overlooking all of the Underworld, as if he deserved any mercy. He deserved to be tortured for the rest of life for his sins, not rewarded. He nearly destroyed the world, and yet he gets to be called a hero? He didn't deserve anything.

"Ding dong. Anyone home?" Luke jumped from the couch. Instantly, he went to his belt in hope to snap a weapon, but he forgot that he was no longer in battle. He had no weapons or protection. He had absolutely nothing.

"Silena." Even in front of him, ten years later, she was still so _young_. He had allured her with compliments and false promises that made her believe that she was any more than a little girl. He supposed that most men would believe she was gorgeous, maybe even perfect, but he never saw her that way. Hell, he was twenty-three years old during the last battle, while she was barely seventeen. He was an adult, while she was still a child.

Suddenly, he felt disgusting.

"Sorry, did I interrupt?" She was so beautiful that it almost looked like she was floating across the room. She tucked her loose, dark curls behind her ear as she blushed. Luke blinked. A thousand questions erupted in his head, but he didn't speak.

"Nico gave me a key," Silena explained. "Actually, we all have keys. This townhome was given to him by his father to be a permanent residence, but it's mostly just used as a place to crash for all of us. I probably won't be the last half-blood you'll see tonight." Well, that's _marvelous_. Even in his new townhome, not-so-graciously given by the Ghost King, he wasn't allowed any privacy. He wasn't allowed to just be left alone.

"I know what you're thinking, Luke. You don't have to leave," Silena said, her eyes doe-like. "Please, don't leave us just yet." Luke's mouth dried. He didn't know what to say – where to even start. It was never his intention for her to die. Maybe it was Kronos's intention, but certainly not his.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. "I can't-I didn't mean to…"

"No. No. Don't – we all made mistakes," Silena said. "Remember, it's been ten years for us, Luke. We all have made our amends." His eyes fell to the ground. Yes, ten whole years. Ten whole years that he could've used doing something better than sleeping in the ground.

"Charlie would love to see you, once you're ready," Silena said, her voice quiet but hopeful. Luke snorted.

"I don't see Beckendorf here. Does he even know I was dug out?" Luke asked. Silena frowned.

"It's complicated," Silena admitted. "But I wanted to see you by myself, first." His eyebrows rose. He was tempted to ask why, but he knew the reason. Luke had taken a piece of her, a piece of her that she gave to him when she first agreed to help him, and she somehow forgave him for it. But where was that piece? Did she see it now, as she stared at him? Would she ever get it back?

"I once thought I loved you. I know you didn't know it, and I know I was just a little girl, but I loved you. Not like I love Charlie – it was an infactuation. You were the first person I ever romanticized. Everyone always looked at me, always thought I was beautiful, but I believe that you were the first person to actually _see_ me. Am I – was I right? Were you the first person to see me?" Silena asked, her voice cracking. Luke pursed his lips. How much did he take from her, in the end? Just a tiny piece, or half of who she was?

"I'm not a good person, Silena. I saw everyone's insecurities and I used that power against them. I didn't care how that affected them," Luke said. He looked for anger, for the resentment to fill her face, but nothing changed. Maybe time could bring about forgiveness, for some people.

"Well, I see you, now. You did what you did because you thought it was the right thing to do. Yeah, you also did it because you were angry, but that anger fueled you. It made you unstoppable," she said. He laughed mirthlessly.

"It made it so that Kronos could infiltrate my body. He was the one that was unstoppable. Don't bother romanticizing my actions, Ms. Beauregard. I don't want your acceptance." The Great Silena Beauregard, the beautiful daughter of Aphrodite who had sacrificed herself for her friends, looked like he had hit her.

"Charlie-Charlie was the one who found your plot. He knows you're awake. He was just interested in speaking to you by himself, so don't leave just yet." And as she left the room, going towards the door, he heard a light sob.

~*~ discidium ~*~

"This should be interesting." And there he was – Ethan Nakamura, walking into the townhome just as soon as Silena left. Unlike the rest of them, he always saw Ethan as an equal. He never paid attention to his age or how much he hadn't experienced. Ethan grew up long before any of them did, as if he had skipped childhood altogether, and he wondered now if Kronos would've done better infiltrating him.

But Ethan, despite his aligning beliefs, was never looking for comfort or belongingness. He was always looking for pure revenge.

"Say, it must have felt only a few hours ago that you were blowing me off Mount Olympus with a piece of my own sword lodged into my stomach." No _hello_. No _how are you_. Ethan's words came out so suddenly that Luke flinched. It was true, Luke didn't remember being in limbo. His long slumber felt like it had only lasted a couple minutes. The recollection of slamming Ethan against a mountain was as vivid as day, as if it had only happened a few hours ago.

"What? Was that too much?" Ethan said, a cruelty ringing in his tone. Luke's lips pressed together tightly.

"I'm sure an apology won't suffice for you?" Luke shot back coolly. Ethan stilled. At first he held his gaze tightly, but then he bent head back and laughed. If anything, Ethan's rings of true laughter only made Luke more uncomfortable.

"Ten years does wonders," Luke drawled. But then Ethan stopped suddenly. His face turned hard as stone.

"Oh, time does nothing for me," Ethan said. "Digging you up isn't a forgiveness. It isn't a forgetfulness. This is me giving you an opportunity for remorse." Luke blinked.

"I _am_ sorry," Luke blurted. "Did you think I wouldn't be remorseful?" Ethan didn't even blink.

"Words of remorse are pointless. Just like you owe Nico di Angelo, you owe me," Ethan snarled. "I don't want an apology. I want you to give me back what I lost." Luke didn't waver.

"And what is that?" Luke asked.

"My life," Ethan said. " _This_ life. When I was alive, I was pointless. But here – well, in the Underworld, it's different. I'm the hero that I was meant to be. I matter, here. And I thought about my anger for a good long time, Luke. I couldn't resent you, because being dead, being here, was the best thing to ever happen to me. Here, there is balance. Here, I have a purpose. But…I deserve more for what I gave." Luke sunk back and exhaled deeply.

"Don't you think being Undead is a bit unbalanced? It's unnatural. You can't be both dead and alive."

"Why? Because the gods taught us that?" Ethan shot back. Luke opened his mouth instantly, but then shut it. That was true – the only reason being Undead seemed undesirable was because the gods taught them that it was wrong. They were heroes. They were meant to fight all battles, not just the ones in the Underworld.

"Let me be," Luke said, his voice cracking. Nothing flickered on Ethan's face.

"No. You don't get to do that."

"Do what, exactly?"

"Give up," Ethan said, taking a step. "The truth is, Luke, you would've done better if you hadn't died. If you had survived that injury, you would've been hailed a hero. You would've gone on to do amazing things. Now, you have the opportunity to do what you were supposed to do."

"You want me to allow you guys to revive me? To bring me back onto Earth? After I had just died?" It was ridiculous. He barely even had a glimpse of the Underworld. He wasn't even entirely sure that he was fully dead.

"It's not about you," Ethan hissed. "It's about us. Jason has had his time to be a leader, and now his reign is over. I am a warrior, not a ruler. Silena is a saver, and Beckendorf is better at taking commands rather than giving them. Nico is already leading enough, in the mortal world. You think we haven't tried this? You don't think we've tried taking turns at making ourselves leaders? You think we wanted to wake you up?" Luke swallowed.

"Kronos sought you out because he saw your leadership skills, your potential, and he crushed your chances. Somehow, he knew that if he didn't infiltrate _your_ body, it would've been hell of a lot easier for Percy Jackson to conquer him because you would've mentored Percy Jackson to victory instantaneously." He was the leader that could have been. What piece would he have played in that war, if he hadn't been the evil one?

"I guess, though, if you really don't want to have your second chance, we'll find someone else. We aren't going to waste any more time begging you." Ethan turned, walking towards the door, but just as his hand touched the knob, Luke stood up.

"Wait," he said, his voice quiet. Still, Ethan stopped. "If I were to – if I were to agree to this, when would I be revived?" Ethan turned around. Though he wasn't smiling, a look of chaos flickered in his one eye.

"We walk into Camp Half-Blood tonight."

~*~ discidium ~*~

He just wanted to sleep. Maybe, in the Underworld, he could rest quietly. Maybe he could be a part of the community, once again, as an instructor or a simple working man. Maybe he would be able to make friends, fall in love, have –

"Don't say that shit to Silena. She'll love the idea." Once Ethan left, Luke had been left alone for hours. Instead of walking out of the townhome though, and investigating his surroundings, his eyes lingered out the window. The townhome was on one of the largest mountains in the Underworld, nearly touching the stark red sky and looking over each and every citizen. At a distance, he could see Elysium. What could be there for him, he wondered. A new chance, a new world.

"And you don't?" Luke looked up at Beckendorf. He could tell that Beckendorf didn't want to be facing him. No, there wasn't resentment, but hesitance. Beckendorf was used to working with machines and technology, not people. People were unpredictable, and Luke could always tell that he didn't like that.

"Have a life?" Beckendorf repeated. "This _is_ a part of my life. Going back to the mortal world is just the next adventure. You forget, we have been doing missions and adventures in the Underworld for years. We believe that it is our duty to go up there, whether we like it or not." So it wasn't something personal for him, then. Ethan wanted to be revived to finish what he started, Jason had some heroic agenda, Nico di Angelo was still alive, and Silena believed going up to the mortal world is meant to be.

But Beckendorf was seeing this opportunity as another quest.

"What are w-you even going to do up there?" Luke asked, his voice louder now. "Percy Jackson has everything under control. He-"

"Can't be the leader of every war," Beckendorf finished firmly. "He will always be a helpful hand, but his time is dimming. It's time for him to move on, and now the fates need someone to replace him and that someone is you." Luke's eyes narrowed.

"I sometimes think it was an accident, you know," Beckendorf said for a moment, his eyes running over him carefully. "You were the perfect leader. You had passion, you had extreme motivation. And somehow, an aberration happened. The fates screwed up. Like, as if the wiring inside of you had a glitch, and it made you choose the wrong side. Maybe this is the gods's way of fixing it." Luke chewed on the inside of his lip. His eyes were burning, but he refused to meet Beckendorf's eyes.

"There are things up there that I have done that can't be fixed. Not even you." Beckendorf didn't so much as breathe.

"I'm not asking you to fix them right now. I'm asking for you to show up," Beckendorf said. "The rest…the rest we can deal with later once we're in the mortal world." Ten years was a lot. Ten years of silence, of being asleep. Was there truly no trace of him in the mortal world? Did people really just move on from his actions? It seemed impossible. But, from what he had heard so far, so many things have changed. Some of those things were good, but many were bad.

"But you want me to be your leader."

" _Yes_."

"Then you're out of your mind." Finally, Luke looked up at him. He didn't care if Beckendorf saw his tears now, he didn't care what Beckendorf saw. Beckendorf's face didn't flicker. He opened his bag. Without hesitation, he reached in and Luke blanched. A bronze sword, beautiful but horrifying, was now in his hands.

"Backbiter." It was the sword that he had welded, and the same sword that he pledged his allegiance to Kronos with. It was a symbol against the gods, a symbol of his sins. Unlike most weapons, Backbiter could harm both mortals and monsters. Its glistening bronze was mesmerizing, but it was also terrifying. Luke's heart sped up as his eyes went over it.

"You used it at the final battle. The kids at Camp Half-Blood wanted to melt it after you died so that nobody could ever use it again, but I didn't let them. I suppose the sword wanted you back because when I woke up this morning, it was resting on my bed stand." Luke shook his head. He wanted to argue, but he couldn't form words. They didn't realize how much blood that that sword had caused. They didn't know how evil it was. They should've melted it, they should've destroyed it.

"Maybe I'm out of my mind," Beckendorf murmured, "but I'm willing to take that chance. Are you?" Luke said nothing.

~*~ discidium ~*~  
As the night approached, the redness in the sky didn't fade away. Instead, it only got redder. _He could get used to it_ , he thought, _with time_. He could get used to anything with time. But when would Thalia see these red skies? When Kronos overcame him, the romantic feelings he had for her faded. Just like the rest of the people in his life, she became a snipped thread. Now that Kronos was gone, she was still a snipped thread, but the image of her lingered as he tried to digest his situation. It had been ten years for her as well, and yet, like him, she hadn't aged a single day.

He had nothing here. He had no family, no friends. He had no purpose. At least with Kronos, he had a purpose. And yet, Beckendorf's word rang in his head again. _We_. A string had pulled when he heard Beckendorf use that word. A string he hadn't felt in years. After everything, they still saw him as one of them. They were fools.

That wasn't all that they were. Beckendorf was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He had a beautiful girlfriend, excellent skills. And yet, Luke saw his obsession. Why couldn't he just rest? But Silena was the same way. She would always want to be better, better for her but also better for Charlie. She had been disregarded as lesser due to her parentage, and now she wanted to make sure nobody ever felt that way ever again. Jason, on the other hand, gave chills down Luke's spine. He reminded him of Percy Jackson, except worse. He was crafted to be the perfect hero, and maybe there was a time that he was, but he had lost everything. Him striving to be a perfect hero was his fatal flaw. Ethan didn't start living until his heart stopped beating, and that made him stronger. It made him fearless. Luke saw his past self in him, and he hated it.

And Nico di Angelo. The last time Luke saw Nico di Angelo, he was just a child. But now, they were practically the same age. He dismissed the boy as puny, as damaged goods, but Nico di Angelo turned into one of the strongest half-bloods he had ever met. He was terrifying, resilient. And he hadn't even died yet. Nico di Angelo managed to form a world where both heroes and fallen heroes could work together, and that was far more than Luke could've ever done. And yet, Nico didn't want any credit. He didn't call himself a hero, he didn't want to be a hero. He just wanted to do what was right. He was born to be an outcast, yet he created a legion of the Undead.

And that goddamned sword. He had created that sword for justice, and yet it had only been used for destruction. That wasn't the sword of a hero. And yet, as his eyes ran over it, he realized that none of them were the heroes that they wanted to be. Ethan was an obsessive maniac, who sacrificed himself at the very last minute for his own reasons. He was selfish. Beckendorf was just a regular half-blood, forgettable in the long run, until he made himself a martyr on Luke's ship. There was so much potential he had never used. Jason spent his entire life believing that he would be the leader of whatever world that he was living in, but now he realized that being a leader meant nothing if you are dead. He was perfect, too perfect. And Silena? She spent most of her life mocked and ridiculed. Now, she can change that. And Nico – Nico was an outcast. He would never fully belong in the living world.

Finally, Luke rose up. He took the sword in his hands. He could've sworn that he could feel a heartbeat coming from the glistening sword. It was beautifully clean, as sharp as ever. It was made for him. He made it. Only that sword knew his true self, only his sword knew of his true desires.

It was dark. It was fully night. Finally, Luke went towards the front door. He opened it. Waiting outside was the fallen heroes. Ethan, Jason, Nico, Silena, Beckendorf. Waiting patiently, as if they had expected Luke to take longer. They were all wearing battle armor with their weapons safely hanging onto their belts. Nico eyes fell on him coolly.

"Are you coming with us?" Nico asked.

"I am no hero. Not yet," Luke said to him. "But I will go with you." Luke was afraid Nico would argue, but he nodded sharply.

"Take a medallion. It will bring you to the other side." Luke's eyes fell to Nico's hand. There was a glistening, bronze medallion in his hand. Luke reached for it, and just as the medallion touched his fingers, Luke could feel armor mold against his body. The armor, alike to the rest of the group, was as black as night. It looked like black obsidian. His sword evaporated from his hand and reappeared at his belt. He looked up. Though Nico didn't say anything, his eyes were glistening.

"Commander," Nico murmured quietly, nodding. Luke opened his mouth, about to protest at the word, but then the rest of the group repeated the world. _Commander. Commander. Commander. Commander._

"This…this will bring us to the mortal world?" Luke asked, his back straightening. Nico nodded.

"Then I guess we should try it on," Luke said dryly. "One…two…" And just as he put the medallion over his neck, the world around him disappeared. For a second, he was in pure darkness. Terror erupted inside of him, but then, just as quickly, light bursted around him. The light was so bright that he fell to his knees with a cry. He expected to fall into nothingness, but his knees collided with something hard.

He opened his eyes again.

It was Camp Half-Blood.

Even though it was night time, it still seemed far brighter than the Underworld. Most of the cabins had their lights still on, and as Luke's eyes danced around, his gut pinged.

"That's a lot more than thirteen cabins," he heard a small voice – Ethan, say. It was the same, but not the same. It was better.

Finally, he turned around. His comrades were behind him, the same looks on their faces. The only person who didn't look stunned was Nico di Angelo, but Luke still saw fear on his face. As if he was awaiting the chaos that would happen once a camper went outside and recognized their faces, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

"I've got to – My boyfriend is a medic here," Nico blurted. He was the first one to rise to his feet. "I need to go see him. He hasn't seen me in months." Luke didn't realize that Nico was asking for permission until Nico met eyes with him. Luke nodded and immediately, Nico sprinted away towards the Apollo cabin.

At first, everyone else was quiet. They were all staring at Luke, waiting for Luke's words. He looked around him quickly. They were in front of the Big House and Luke had a lingering feeling that that was where he was supposed to go.

"Stay," he said firmly. "If anyone comes out, announce that we come in peace, but promise them nothing. Remember, we are no longer their heroes." He couldn't quite read what happened in Silena's and Beckendorf's eyes – not necessarily disagreement, but sorrow.

Before their faces could make Luke feel worse, he stood on his feet. He felt surprisingly lively, with his hands sweating and his gut twisting, as he walked up the Big House steps. At a distance, he heard noise come from the Apollo's cabin. Still, he didn't turn away.

He opened the front doors.

The building had been remodeled to look like an amazing library. On all walls, there were humongous book cases that reached several stories. Doors were laid out between columns and a large, bronze staircase spiraled up to each level. This was entirely different than from the last time he had been there – before, it looked like a very large beach house. Now, it looked like what he would have thought the Library of Alexandria would have looked like if it hadn't been burned down. The place had obviously been renovated, and when he realized who must have been the one to do it, his eyes fell to the only other being in the room. In front of the bookcase, like it was truly a real library, was a large desk that sat several armchairs. And behind the desk, an old friend sat.

There was once a time that Luke wondered, in the deepest of the night, what it would've been like if Annabeth was older – if they were the same age. They always had a connection that he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't romantic, but it wasn't sibling-like either. She was far too young for him, no doubt, but he was always stunned by her inherent courage and her cutthroat personality. He had once wondered…who would she be to him, if she had been older? And now, in the lowest of his moments, he was staring at her.

Her curly blonde hair was now chopped at her shoulders, and her body had filled out fully. She was dressed business casual, but by the way she stood, the way her back straightened against the chair, made him tongue-tied. He wasn't entirely sure that he was in his body anymore as his eyes went over the figure in front of him. She was yet to look up from her large, beautifully-carved desk, as her eyes hadn't drifted away from the thin piece of paper that was laid out across from her. For the first time, he felt inadequate to even be in her presence. She was powerful, no doubt. Both in the Greek world, but also in the mortal world. Ten years since the battle…ten years was a long time. She had to be twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven? Older than him. After all, he was only twenty-three.

"Luke Castellan." He didn't even notice she had looked up until she said his name aloud. Her eyes were wide as an owl's, and her voice shook. He took in a shallow breath.

"Annabeth, I'm sorry-" But before he could finish his sentence, she had leapt from her desk and nailed him against the nearest pillar with a knife at his throat. His eyes were wide as the cold sliver pressed against him. Ten more years of life, ten more years of combat, and her fingers were still shaking against the blade.

"Who- _what_ are you?"


End file.
